


I Just Can't Face Myself Alone Again

by bewareoftrips



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, M/M, Riverparents, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sick Fic, parentdale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 13:49:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13101498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewareoftrips/pseuds/bewareoftrips
Summary: He had never meant to let it get this bad. Never even meant to take the whole first bottle even. But when they were the only thing numbing him, calming him, letting him sleep – how could he resist? After all, wasn’t the doctor supposed to cut you off at some point? Or did getting shot in the town’s landmark restaurant just give you a free pass?





	1. December 23rd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jugheadjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadjones/gifts).



> For Julia! You asked for a Fred sick fic (and gave me just about the longest prompts ever!) and damnit I tried my hardest to give it to you! I only hope it lives somewhat up to your expectations!
> 
> I found this exhausting to write simply because Fred is just so pure and it hurts me so to hurt him! To be honest, I did very little research on the subject of withdrawal and based a lot of this off the addicts I've known, so please forgive me if this isn't 100% accurate. Enjoy!

Polly Cooper came home just before noon and was over the Andrew’s by 2 pm with a plate of cookies.

“Mom sent me over with this,” she said as he hugged her, careful to avoid the massive baby bump sticking out from under her sweater.

“Ah, what’s going on now?” Fred asked. He had told the Cooper girls long ago they didn’t need to make excuses to stop by, yet “Mom sent this over,” or “Dad asked if he could borrow this,” was still code for needing to get away.

“Nothing much.” Polly grabbed onto the armrest of the sofa and slowly lowered herself down. Fred made to help her, but she waved him away. “Just that I’ve been home for two hours and they’re already going at it. About _me_.”

Fred sat down next to her and put the plate of cookies down on the coffee table, slowly peeling back the Christmas-themed plastic wrap. (Leave it to none other than Alice Cooper to own plastic wrap for all occasions.) He raised a cookie to his mouth, but didn’t take a bite.

“As soon as I got home, Mom started fussing over me. Have I been eating enough? Relaxing? Not taking on too much stress?” She shook her head and took a cookie. “Of course I’m under stress. Look at me.” She gestured down to her stomach. “She made me lay on the couch, stuck my feet up, brought me juice. Then Dad said something about how I need to be active to make sure they come as soon as possible. Then Mom asks why he’s trying to rush these babies out of me, I still have another three weeks to go. Then Dad says how active she was during her pregnancies and maybe she’s just scared of being a grandmother so young.” Polly sighed. “Now they’re going on about sleeping arrangements and the nursey and I just needed to get out of there.” She took a bite of her cookie and eyed him. “No good?”

Fred shook himself back to the present, looking at the cookie still held a few inches from his mouth. He forced a smile. “Of course they’re good.”  He took a tiny bite, letting it melt in his mouth, knowing it’d be much too rich for his stomach right now. “Your mom’s the best baker in town. Just don’t tell her I said that.”

“Never.” Polly smiled and popped the rest of her cookie in her mouth, already grabbing another one. “Anything wrong, Mr. A? You don’t look great. Are you still in pain?”

A lump formed in Fred’s throat.

“No pain. Just shaking something off.”

Polly’s brow creased. “Not the flu or something?”

Fred laughed. “Yeah, probably. Trying to get Archie out of here before he catches it from me.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to be alone on Christmas.” Fred raised his eyebrow. “Betty told me. And it’s a shame. I came home. No one should be alone on Christmas, even if their family is a little crazy.”

“Don’t bother, Polly.” Archie came thundering down the stairs, nearly tripping over his feet as he dropped a duffle bag near the front door and ran into the living room. “I’ve been trying to talk him into coming to Chicago for weeks and he won’t budge.”

Polly started getting up, but Archie waved her back down, opting to lean down and hug her quickly instead.

“Really leaving your dad on Christmas, Arch?” Polly tutted. Archie’s eyes quickly darted over to Fred and he knew they had the same idea. Polly might favor Hal in the looks department, but she was a dead ringer for Alice when she disapproved of something.

“We planned Christmas in Chicago with Mom over two months ago. Dad just changed his mind about coming.”

Polly shook her head. “We’ll look out for him.”

“That’s not necessary.” Fred stood and crossed over to Archie. “I’m a big boy who can take care of myself.” He tossed his arm over Archie’s shoulder. When did Archie gain that inch on him? A few months ago? A year? Sometimes it felt like just a blink-of-his-eye ago he was still small enough to give piggy back rides to, hold in his arms. (Fred even had very vivid memories of holding the young girl sitting on his couch when she was a baby. And here she was about to pop out two babies herself.)

“I’ll be ready to go to the airport in a few. Just need to say bye to Vegas and get the Christmas decorations out of the garage.”

“No need. No point in decorating.” Archie stiffened under his arm. “Now son…”

“Dad, come on.” Archie pulled away from him, eyes desperately looking towards Polly. “You’re freaking me out. You _love_ Christmas. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Fred sent Polly a smile and clapped his son on the shoulder, looking him in the eye. “Everything is fine. I just have some stuff to take care of here that can’t wait. Now grab a couple of Alice’s cookies before I finish them all and go toss your stuff in the truck.”

Archie nodded shorty, grabbing a couple of cookies before leaving the room and retrieving his duffle bag.

“You’ll come over for Christmas dinner, right?” Polly asked as she tried pushing herself up off the sofa. Fred extended his hand and she accepted the help this time. He didn’t answer her right away. “Right, Mr. A?”

“I’ll let you know, Polly. As great of a cook as your mom is, I think I could do with some rest and quiet.” He walked her to the door and winked at her. “Be sure to thank her for the cookies.”

“Just think about dinner. Christmas Eve dinner even. Less people. Please?”

She held onto the bannister as she walked down the porch stairs. Archie was just slamming the door to the truck as she walked up to him. They exchanged a few words Fred couldn’t make out, Archie’s eyes looking in his direction every few seconds. He finally took Polly in a quick embrace before she waddled back next door.

Fred grabbed his coat and locked the door behind him. Wasn’t there a time a few months ago when locking the door wouldn’t even have crossed his mind? When the watchful eye of Alice Cooper was enough to know the neighborhood was safe?

Times they were a changing.

“Want to drive?” he called to Archie, taking his time walking down the steps, just as Polly had. He could probably thunder down them just as fast as Archie did the ones inside, but it wouldn’t be wise.

“Nah, Dad. All you.” Archie tossed the keys to him and they both climbed in the truck. Fred turned on the radio, as they pulled off Elm and a Christmas song poured out of the speakers.

“ _But give my daddy a job cause he needs one, he’s got lots of mouths to feed_.”

“Your mom loves The Kinks you know.”

Archie turned on him quickly. “The _what_?”

Fred let out a soft laugh. “The band, Archie. The Kinks.”

“Oh.” Archie turned away and looked out the window, _The Town with Pep!_ sign just coming into view. “I thought everything was okay with you and mom.”

“Everything’s fine with us.”

“I mean, you guys didn’t sign the divorce papers yet. And then she came back here to help out when you got shot.” He turned back to his dad. “What happened between you guys?”

“Is that why you’re so worried? You think your mom and I got into a fight?”

“Well why aren’t you coming for Christmas then? We planned this whole thing when she was here in October. Instead of her coming to Riverdale, we’d go see her in Chicago this year. That was the plan. Now all of a sudden you just don’t want to see her?”

Archie’s leg was bouncing up and down. Fred put his hand on Archie’s knee to stop him. “Archie. This has nothing to do with your mom.”

“Then what, Dad? What’s so important that you’d skip out on Christmas with your family?”

Fred cringed at his son’s words. “I’m not skipping out on Christmas, Archie. There are just some things I need to take care of here, okay?”

“No, Dad. It’s not okay.” Archie slumped in his seat and turned back towards the window.

“ _Have yourself a merry merry Christmas, have yourself a good time,  
But remember the kids who got nothing while you’re drinking down your wine_.”

The lump came back to Fred’s throat, harder to swallow than before. A pain started creeping through his body as well. Just a slight twinge, but it was there. He glanced at the radio. 3:30 pm. Nine and a half hours now since his last dose. He shook the pain off. It wasn’t so bad. He’d been keeping it at bay for so long now, he was sure most of it was in his head at this point. Had to be.

“You and Veronica patch things up?”

Archie didn’t look his way. “Sure. She even offered to watch Vegas if you changed your mind about Chicago. She’ll be let down.”

_Ouch_.

When they finally reached the small airport on the far side of Greendale, Archie directed him to drop off.

“You don’t need to walk me to the gate. I’m not a kid.” Fred could hear the pain buried in his son’s voice. Archie was trying to put on a brave face, show he didn’t care, but his son wore his heart on his sleeve. Just like he did.

“You sure?”

Archie nodded quickly and Fred pulled up to the gate. He put the car in park, but Archie waved his hand to stop him from getting out.

“I just have the one bag. I’ll be fine.” Archie let out a sigh and quickly reached over to hug Fred. “I’m not mad. It’s just… I’ve never had a Christmas without both of you there.”

The pain was in Fred’s chest now. His heart was beating twice as fast as normal and he hoped Archie couldn’t feel it through both of their winter coats. He also hoped he son couldn’t feel the fifteen pounds he’d lost in the past few weeks either.

“It’s selfish though, right? To just keep dragging you both back and forth for something as childish as Christmas morning. It’s just another day.”

Christmas had never been just another day in their house. Christmas was everything to the Andrews. The house decked out in lights and gingerbread houses and milk and cookies for Santa and carols and tree trimming. Things just fell at a bad time this year. That was all.

“Archie,” he put his arm around his son’s neck, looking him straight in the eye. “You know how important Christmas is to me, how all of us being together as a family is. But there’s just some stuff I have to do.”

“But Dad –”

“No buts.” He kissed Archie on the forehead, something he knew probably embarrassed his son at this age, but he still did when deemed appropriate. “I think things will make sense when you get home. Now go. I’m sure your mom spent a fortune on a plane ticket two days before Christmas.”

Archie pulled his duffle bag out of the backseat and got out. He stood between the truck and the door, clearly not ready to leave. “It’s not too late, Dad. We can still get a refund on my ticket and drive like we planned. If we take turns, we’ll make it before midnight.”

Fred let out a chuckle. Mary would say he inherited that undying need to fix problems from him.

“It’s too late. Mom’s expecting you. I need to call her soon and let her know you got on the plane okay.”

“Or we call her together and tell her you’re coming too. A Christmas miracle.” Archie sighed, taking a step back. He kept adjusting the strap of his bag. “It just feels… wrong. It won’t be an Andrew’s Christmas without you.”

“Call me as soon as you land. And tell your mom to take you to that pizza place for dinner tonight.”

A smile finally played across his son’s lips. “I’m going all the way to Chicago and the only thing you can recommend is pizza?”

“You’re going to the only place in the whole Midwest where you can even get a decent pie. Trust me. Plus, that’s the place your mom and I went when I drove straight through the night to –”

“To make it to her on her twenty-first birthday when she was away at college. I know the story.” Archie offered him a solemn smile. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Archie. Be safe.”

Archie paused for a moment before closing the door. “You too, Dad. You too.”

He didn’t pull away until Archie had already walked through the glass doors and waved him off. Once he got out of the small Greendale airport, he pulled over to the side of the road and dialed Mary. She picked up on the first ring.

“Change your mind yet, mister?”

Mary was never one for small talk.

“I told you, Mare. I have to do this.”

“Oh Freddy.”

He could almost see his wife biting her lip on the other side of the phone. He mentally kicked himself for still calling her that – _his wife_ – but old habits die hard. They were still technically married after all.

“Don’t oh Freddy me. I know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t though, Fred. You really don’t.” She sighed. “This isn’t how you do this. You don’t… this isn’t smoking or drinking coffee. You can’t just go cold turkey.”

“I need to kick this.”

“And you can, I know you can. But let’s do it the right way. As a family. Come to Chicago and we will check you into rehab.”

“Mary, I can’t –”                                                                                                                                    

“Do not say you can’t afford it. Money is not the issue here. You being stubborn is. I swear, you are worse than Alice sometimes.”

“No one is as stubborn as Alice. Don’t insult me. And money _is_ an issue too. But I can’t… it’s Archie. I can’t let Archie find out about this.”

“You really think your own son would judge you for a little bit of weakness? He idolizes you.”

“Exactly. I can’t let him see me like this. He’s finally noticing somethings up. I need to kick this before he comes home.”

“Fred.” Mary’s voice was cracking. He told himself it was the poor cell service In Greendale but he knew that wasn’t true. “Come to Chicago. I will call the airport and get you on that plane right now. Our son would never think any less of you for needing help.” He heard her take a deep breath and exhale, another deep breath and exhale. Surely remnants of the pointless Lamaze class she’d taken while pregnant with Archie. (She needed a C-section in the end, of course. She had joked her whole pregnancy about praying for a baby with a head smaller than Fred’s.)

“I’ll give you guys a call on Christmas morning. Just show Archie a good time.”

“Fred, I –”

He hit the end call button and let his head fall back against the headrest.

The pain was creeping up on him. Slowly, but surely. He swallowed hard, fighting the nausea that half cookie was bringing up. He had never meant to let it get this bad. Never even meant to take the whole first bottle of pills. But when they were the only thing numbing him, calming him, letting him sleep – how could he resist?

His mind flashed with images of FP’s dad. Hurt once on the job and never worked another day in his life. Just sat on the couch, watching soaps and popping pharmaceutical heroin like it was Pez.

Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he’d ever be able to compare himself to Forsythe the first.

Fred put the car back into drive. He made it the entire day without vomiting. Even managed to hold down two Christmas cookies and an entire glass of water.

He would do this.


	2. December 24th

When Fred woke up, he wondered if he really did have the flu. He threw up almost instantly, hardly making it down the hall to the bathroom. His entire body hurt; not just the pain from the bullet wound (although that felt like it was on fire), but the aching of all his muscles. It reminded him of high school, that way he felt at the beginning of every football season. His body would always go soft during the summer because he was never one to exercise when he didn’t have to and especially never one to turn down extra whipped cream on his milkshake on a hot day.

Vegas eyed him curiously from the hallway as he took two steps out of the bathroom. He ducked back inside to retrieve a plastic bucket from under the sink. He thought about the pills sitting in the medicine cabinet. It had crossed his mind in the dead of night to just flush them, but he didn’t have the strength. He didn’t have the strength for much right now.

Mary knew and only Mary. Even separated and on the verge of divorce (turns out the hardest part of divorce was signing the piece of paper at the very end) they always had their connection. Things were never easy when he was with Hermione and things were flat out complicated with FP. But with Mary, things clicked. They worked. Even six hundred miles away.

She had been in a rage. Even over the phone, he could hear her shaking, feel the way she was probably snapping a pencil in half or stirring her coffee with such fervor it sloshed over the sides.

She wasn’t angry about the pills. How he’d accidently come to rely on the euphoria his Oxycodone provided. No. Mary was angry he’d waited so long to say something. That he thought he could go through this alone. She’d hung up on him that first day, telling him she couldn’t speak to him until he was being reasonable.

The next day, he woke to her calling him crying, blaming herself for leaving so soon after he was shot.

Fred shared his plan with her then. Not a great one, but the one that seemed most likely to work. Instead of him and Archie driving to Chicago, he’d send Archie alone. He’d spend seven days with Mary before they’d fly back here for New Years. Seven days was all it took to get out of your system.

“Seven days doesn’t mean it’s over, Fred.” She used that soft, simple voice. The one she always used to explain to Archie and Jughead why they shouldn’t touch the hot stove or jump off the garage roof into a pile of leaves. (He still had nightmares of the way Archie’s arm was bent after that incident.) “All seven days means is… is it wouldn’t show up in a drug test. Doesn’t mean you won’t want it anymore. That your body won’t crave it.”

“Seven days, Mary. That’s all I’m asking of you. When was the last time I asked you for anything?”

“I don’t want you to do this alone. Rehab or at _least_ have someone with you.”

She’d agreed in the end. Reluctantly, but that was the most he could hope for. And for the first time since she’d moved out those two and a half years ago (two years, seven months, and nineteen days, but who was counting), they spoke every day.

Fred wasn’t a stubborn man, but he was proud one. He wouldn’t budge. And now he had 86K in hospital bills to worry about on top of his own addiction. Selling Christmas trees had been nice for some side cash and spreading holiday cheer, but he needed to get back to work as soon as possible. And try to pick up more work than just the SoDale project that had already caused him enough of a headache.

He opened the medicine cabinet and eyed the bottle. A brand new one that Archie had picked up at Riverdale Drugs for him two days ago. When he’d first came home, Archie had the pharmacy send text alerts right to his phone so he could keep track of what his dad needed. He never had the heart to tell his son to stop. Or to tell the doctor to stop calling in refills.

Wasn’t the doctor supposed to cut you off at some point? Wasn’t it supposed to be difficult to get a prescription for a controlled substance? In what world was it this easy to keep getting refill after refill without even a follow up appointment?

Maybe getting shot in the town’s landmark restaurant just gave you a free pass.

Fred closed the medicine cabinet slowly. He considered the bottle of ibuprofen for the body aches and the headache he felt coming on, but decided against. No point in replacing one pill for another.

He made his way down the stairs to the kitchen, bucket tucked securely under his arm and Vegas at his heels. He poured kibble into the dog’s bowl and opened the back door so he could do his business in the yard. There was hardly anything in his stomach and coffee was probably the last thing he needed, but Fred put on a pot anyway. At the very least, the smell would be a comfort.

He found his cell phone in the living room. One missed call from Mary, one from Archie, and three texts. Two from Archie telling him the pros and cons of Chicago deep dish pizza and one from Jughead. A simple ‘You going to be home today?’

He texted each of the boys back in a way he knew would drive them crazy if they saw him. A single index finger hitting each key one at a time. He put his phone down and laid back on the sofa, inhaling the rich smell of his coffee from the kitchen. Alice’s cookies still sat on the coffee table, probably the first year they’d lasted more than two hours under this roof.

Fred reached up to wipe his face, surprised at the amount of sweat on his brow. Without Archie here, he had on the heat as low as it could go, opting for staying warm in a flannel instead. He unbuttoned his shirt, put his head down, and fell back asleep.

_Knock knock knock._

“Mr. Andrews? Are you in there?”

_Knock knock knock._

“Fred? Fred? Fred?”

_Thump thump thump_.

Fred shook his head slightly, trying to remember where he was. His living room? Middle of the day? He squinted at this wrist before realizing he hadn’t even put it on his watch yet today. He was still in his pajamas even.

_Tap tap tap_.

That finally set Vegas off. He got up from his position on the floor and began barking. Someone tapping on the window above the couch. Fred could make out a shadow putting their face up against the glass, trying to peer in through the sheer curtains. Alice’s voice rang out clear as day through the closed window.

“You are frightening the children, Fred! Open up.”

He pulled himself up to his knees on the couch, wincing through his pain. He pulled open the curtains, Alice gasping as she was about to tap her red and green nails on the window again.

“Fred!” she shouted, her face taking on the same color as her red Christmas sweater. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He let the curtain fall closed without answering her. He pulled himself up slowly, wondering where he’d left that cane he was using right after he left the hospital. It seemed a step backwards to use it, but the pain in his abdomen was getting worse the more he moved. He made it the fifteen or so feet to the door, greeted by three of the four Coopers, all decked in varying degrees of Christmas red, and Jughead, a dark contrast amongst them. All four looked frazzled.

“Uh, sorry,” Jughead muttered, side eyeing Alice. “I called your cell, the house, kept knocking. I was getting worried.”

“What is with you, Fred?” Alice tapped her heels pointedly against the wooden porch. “I was about to resort to drastic measures and use my spare key.”

Fred rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “How do you have a spare key?”

Her nostrils flared as she glanced quickly at her husband. “I still have it from last time you went on vacation. I was watering Mary’s fern.”

“Mary’s fern.” The words rang somewhere in the back of his mind as he tried to make sense of them. “Mary’s… Alice, do you mean you’ve had a key to my house for three years?”

Alice closed her eyes and sighed. “You’re missing the –”

“Are you okay, Mr. Andrews?” Betty’s brow was furrowed. “You don’t look great. Polly said you were coming down with something?”

“Coming down with something? That’s your excuse for –”

Hal put one hand on Alice’s shoulder and another on Betty’s. “Yes, so we should probably get out of Fred’s hair, right?” Alice glared at him. “Right, Alice?”

She nodded curtly before looking Fred dead in the eyes. “We’re expecting you at dinner tonight, Fred. 7 pm sharp. See you then.” She turned on her heel, taking off down the steps. She didn’t turn around as she called, “And don’t you and your cad of a father think of being late either, Jughead!”

Betty offered a worried smile before following her mother. Hal crossed his arms over his chest. “You sure you’re okay, Fred?”

“Never better. Just fighting something off.”

He nodded slowly, looking Fred up and down. “Right. Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll hold Alice off.” Jughead opened his mouth, but Hal stopped him before a word came out. “Not you. You be there on time.”

Jughead’s mouth shut and he nodded quickly. Hal clapped Fred on the shoulder a little harder than he would have liked. “Merry Christmas, Fred. Come by if you feel better.” He took off next door after his family.

Jughead stepped inside past Fred, clicking the door closed behind him.

“Christmas dinner with the Coopers, huh?” Fred made the slow trek into the living room, lowering himself gently onto the sofa. Despite the cold inside and out, the sofa felt like it was radiating heat from his nap. “You excited?”

Jughead let out a nervous laugh as he plopped into the armchair. Vegas sat down next to his feet. “If by excited you mean horrified, then yes. Last time we all had dinner together it didn’t exactly go well. I was hoping you’d be a good buffer between Mrs. Cooper and my dad.”

“Nah. I’d probably just fan the flame.” They both laughed at that, Fred’s quickly turning into a fit of coughing. Jughead sat on the edge of his seat, leaning over towards him. Vegas sat up as well.

“You sure you’re okay? You need something? Water?”

He tried shaking his head no, but Jughead was already up, running to the kitchen. He heard the tap running (no bottled water in this house) as his fit finally wore down. Jughead came back and handed him a glass of water. Fred made to grab for it and nearly dropped it, Jughead saving it just in time. Fred put both his hands out and noticed they were shaking. He nodded to the table and the glass of water went there. Jughead’s eyes were filled with concern.

“Mr. A, you sure you’re okay?”

“I think it’s the flu.” Fred sat on the edge of the sofa, as close as he could get to the coffee table without falling off. He lowered both hands and picked up the glass slowly, taking one long stead sip. “Honestly, you shouldn’t stay too long. I don’t want it to catch. I hope Archie got away in time.”

“I told him I’d check up on you. He said give it two days before I came over, so it wouldn’t be so obvious, but that was before I got Mom’s gift.”

Fred’s ears perked at the mention of Gladys. “Yeah? What’d your mom send?”

Jughead gulped, looking straight down on the floor. Instead of answering, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to Fred.

“Ah. Bus ticket to Toledo.”

 “Leaving bright and early tomorrow morning.” He sighed. “Dad was talking about us going, right? Leave middle of the night and make it there in time to surprise them first thing Christmas morning. Did Mom ever like surprises? Hell no. So I mentioned it to her and she said let her think about it. Dad called her yesterday, just as this showed up in the mail. Her not so subtle way of saying she’s not ready to see him yet.”

Fred took another slow sip, still not confident enough to hold his glass with one hand. “How’s he taking it?”

“Not… great. I told him I don’t have to go. Or I could change the ticket for another day so he wouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone, but he wouldn’t have it. He’s pretending he’s fine, but I know it’s eating him up inside. And I’m just –” He let his head fall into his hands. “I’m really afraid he’s going to backslide if I’m not here. That’s stupid, right? I’m not what’s keeping him sober.”

_You just may be_.

“And as I’m telling this to Betty just now, asking if she wouldn’t mind checking up on him and you, Mrs. Cooper overhears. So she calls him right away and says we both need to be there for Christmas Eve dinner. Betty and I aren’t even together anymore.” He looked up. “What’s the point?”

Fred regarded him carefully. “You’re not together right now, but you were still over there with her. You’re still friends, right?”

Jughead shrugged. “I guess. I mean, of _course_ we’re still friends. We’ll always be friends. Things are just, well they’re complicated now. So complicated.”

Fred remembered that feeling all too well. Of being sixteen and in love and not in love and how everything seemed like the most important thing in the world at that very moment.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re over complicating things, Jug. Stop thinking about it so much and trust me, it’ll work it’s self out. With Betty, with your dad, with this dinner tonight.”

“No chance I can talk you into coming?”

“As much as I love dinner and a show, I don’t think I could stomach it. Literally.”

Jughead’s knee was doing the same shaky, nervous thing Archie’s was in the truck yesterday. “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I guess it’s kind of personal. It’s just been… irking me. I don’t want to bring it up to Betty or my dad. Too awkward. And I think you’re far enough removed that you could give me an honest answer. If you want to, that is. You don’t –”

“Jug,” Fred laughed. “What is it?”

His lips pursed. “Back in high school, did my dad and Mrs. Cooper – were they a _thing_?”

Fred bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Are you asking me if your dad ever dated Mrs. Cooper?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Did FP Jones and Alice Cooper, sorry, Alice _Smith_ ever date?”

Jughead nodded.

“You’re asking if they went to the Twilight together and held hands in school and shared milkshakes at Pops? If they danced at homecoming and –”

“Come on, Mr. A!” Jughead’s eyes were bugging out of his head. “A yes or no is fine.”

Fred chuckled. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Jughead regarded him through slit eyes. “You sure?”

“I am as sure as the day is long. Your dad never dated Alice.” _Maybe they fooled around a bit, but definitely never dated_. “You know, me and Mrs. Lodge dated and Archie and Veronica don’t have a problem with it.”

“Well, you two have the ability to be civil to one another. And not start talking about… about sexual frustrations in front of your kids.”

Fred was glad he’d put the glass down because he surely would have dropped it.

“What was that?”

Jughead shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. Look, I should get home and try and coach Dad for tonight, but I really don’t want to leave you like this.”

“There’s nothing that can be done for me, Jug. It’s just the flu. I need rest and quiet.”

Jughead stared at him. “You’re sure it’s just the flu?”

“Of course.”

“You know Archie isn’t the best at hiding things. He’s been really worried about you lately.”

Fred gulped, hoping it was subtle enough to hide from Jughead. “Nothing to worry about here.”

Jughead pursed his lips and stood up. “Hey, you want me and dad to bring you over a plate later? If there’s one good part of dinner at the Coopers, it’s the food.”

His heart sped up again. “No, Jug. Like I said, I really don’t think I could stomach it right now.”

_And if there’s one person who’s going to see right through me, it’s FP._

“You have a good time with your mom and Jellybean. Send them my love. Merry Christmas, Jug.”

The young man he’d known since he was born reached down suddenly and hugged him, just a little too rough for the moment, but Fred wrapped his arms around him anyway. Jughead was never very touchy feely (none of the Jones were) and Fred couldn’t remember hugging the kid since he was small enough to hold.

“Merry Christmas, Fred. You should get back to sleep. You look like you could use it.”

He waited until her heard the door close and did just that.

When he opened his eyes again, it was dark. Had he really slept half the day away? He could hear the front door opening, voices coming from the foyer. Vegas was growling somewhere on the floor.

“We could have just knocked again.”

“Why do I still have this key if I was going to knock? We’re ending this.”

A light flicked on and Fred covered his eyes. Vegas started barking.

“There he is. How are we feeling now, Fred?” Alice’s faux cheer rang out through his living room.

Fred made no move to get up. “I want that key back, Alice.”

“And you’ll get it. Now, are we doing this the easy way or the hard way? I have a ham in the oven and I don’t entirely trust Betty keeping an eye on it.” Her heels clicked across the living room until she was right in front of him. “Look at me, Fred.” He separated his fingers, feeling like a child playing peek-a-boo. “What are you on?”

“What’re you talking about, Alice?”

“Fine. What are you _off_?” He glared at her and she smiled, spinning on her heel. “Fred’s not much for secrets. Just go look in the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom.”

“Is that necessary?”

“ _Yes_.”

Fred squinted past her, eyes still adjusting to the light, to see Hal heading up the stairs, Vegas on his tail. Lousy dog was a great friend, but a terrible guard.

“Alice, I don’t know what you’re on about –”

“Oh, you don’t?”

He started scooting up slowly from his position on his back. The nausea hit him fast and hard. He covered his mouth quickly and Alice’s eyes widened, quickly scanning the room until she came to the bucket he left turned over on the floor. She hardly got it under his mouth before the vomit came up.

Alice slid down next to him on the couch, one hand on his back and the other holding the bucket. Even after the painful heaving stopped, Alice kept her hand on him. She put down the bucket, looking distastefully into it as she picked up the glass of water from earlier.

“All that work and that’s all that came out? I supposed you haven’t been eating very much.”

He shook his head, trying to take the glass from her with both hands. She kept her hand on the bottom as he tilted his head back to take a sip. Hal came back down the stairs, bottle of pills rattling in his hand and Vegas excitedly walking circles around him. He looked between his wife, neighbor, and the bucket on the floor.

“That didn’t sound good.”

“Everything is under control.” She kept her left hand rubbing Fred’s back. “Just watching Fred puke his vices out. Feels just like high school all over again.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to hold his hair back anymore.” Hal held up the bottle of pills. “You were right. Oxycodone.”

Alice stopped rubbing and slid her arm the rest of the way around Fred, letting her hand fall to his hip. By reflex, he rested his head on her shoulder. It really did feel like high school all over again.

“Oh, Freddy,” she said softly. “What happened?”

He closed his eyes and stayed silent.

“Hal, go home and bring me the blood measure monitor and the thermometer.”

“There was a thermometer upstairs.”

Even though he couldn’t see her face, Fred could practically hear her eye roll.

“A thermometer that isn’t older than Archie. Oh, and grab one of my soups out of the freezer. Take the dog with you too. He looks like he needs walking.”

Alice’s other arm wrapped around Fred as he heard the front door close.

“You don’t have to talk to me.” Her voice was softer yet. He didn’t think he’d heard that side of her since the kids were babies. “But you should.”

Fred took a short breath, still not opening his eyes. “How..?”

“Archie and Jughead both told Betty they were worried about you. Betty’s worried about you. Polly’s now worried about you. I had to half break your door down this this afternoon. I called Mary and got the dirt after I told her I had an inkling of what was going on.” She pinched his side, making him jump. “And I’m not blind. You’re all skin and bones and you look like shit.” He muttered into her shoulder. “Speak up.”

“Cold turkey.” He took his head off her and she finally let go of him, letting her hands fall to her lap. “I just stopped. One yesterday morning and I’m done. I meant to flush them earlier.” He eyed the bottle Hal left on the table.

“You’re supposed to wean yourself off of them. Cold turkey is dangerous.”

“Taking them is dangerous. I don’t know how I let it get this far.” His head fell into his hands and he was surprised by the moisture on his brow. He didn’t even realize he was sweating. “I need it out of me by the time Archie comes home.”

“It’ll never work.” The door opened and closed, Hal walking in with his arms full, placing items on the coffee table. Vegas walked a few circles around him before going to Fred and lying down at his feet. “Go down to half a dose. Slowly work your way off it.” Alice picked up the bottle and Fred reached out and grabbed her hand with a strength he didn’t know he had.

“If you want to help, you’ll take those pills and toss them.”

Her lips curled. “I know what’s best for you, Fred.”

“No, you don’t.” All of a sudden, he wanted to scream. “You guys can’t just barge into my home with a key you have no right to and start bossing me around.”

“We’re just trying to help,” Hal said.

“Well you’re not. Don’t you have a dinner to host, huh?”

Alice glared at him and picked up the blood pressure monitor. “Arm.”

“No.”

“Give me your arm.”

“Alice, if you don’t –”

“Grab him, Hal.”

Hal raised his eyebrow at Fred. Fred’s eye twitched but he extended his arm. She fastened the cuff, frowning down at him.

“So skinny, Fred,” she sighed, pressing the button on the monitor. The cuff tightened and slowly released the pressure.

“Why do you even have one of these?”

“Hal has high blood pressure.”

“I do _not_ have high blood pressure.”

“Well, you will if you don’t watch the salt. I’m not losing you at fifty because you can’t say no to a bag of potato chips.” The rest of the pressure was released from his arm as the monitor beeped. Alice’s eyes widened as she looked at his reading.

“That bad?”

“Yes.” She undid the cuff and passed the monitor back to Hal, tilting it so Fred couldn’t see the screen. Hal pulled a face before clicking a button to turn it off.

“Go find some paper and write it down so we can track.” She picked up the thermometer and held it up to Fred’s mouth. “Open up.”

“I’m burning up. I obviously have a fever.”

“Open. Up.”

“Alice, come –”

“Don’t make me ask again, Fred.”

He opened his mouth and Alice roughly shoved the thermometer under his tongue. He gasped at the suddenness of her move and yanked it out, gesturing wildly for the bucket. Alice placed it under him and Fred began to dry heave into it.

Though his closed eyes and fuzzy head, he could still hear Hal say something.

“It’s going to get way worse before it gets any better.”

“No shit,” he muttered into the bucket. “No shit.”

They brought him up to his room, walking sideways with his arms slung over each of them. He was sure Hal could handle the task alone – Fred could still walk after all – but Alice insisted on helping, heels and all.

“I’ll change your sheets,” Alice said as she distributed Fred’s weight to Hal.

“No need.” He pulled himself out of Hal’s grasp and walked the few feet to his bed. “I appreciate the help, I really do, but I’ll be okay by myself.”

Alice let out one of her eyes-rolling-to-God sighs. “Hal, go get him some water with a straw and –” She whispered the rest as Fred lied down. Hal left.

“We’ll be back tonight after dinner.”

“Alice –”

“ _Fred_. Would you rather come next door and stay with us? I’m sure Betty won’t mind bunking with her pregnant sister. Two more sets of hands could be helpful. And I’m oh so sure they’d never whisper a word about it to Archie. Hell, when Jughead and FP come over tonight, we can have a nice little intervention.” She crossed her arms and shot him a grin. “Sound good?”

“Point taken.” He rubbed his temples. “Once a day. You guys can stop by once a day. Just to make sure I haven’t choked on my own vomit.”

He felt the mattress groan as Alice sat next to him. “Three times a day and we’re staying as long as we want.”

“Alice…”

“ _Fred_. You’re too weak to even argue. Take some help for once.”

“You’re one to talk.” He took his hands off his face and somehow managed a smirk. “You hate accepting help.”

“Because I never need it. Nothing is worse than unsolicited help.”

_The irony_.

Hal came back in the room, handing Alice a glass of water and a pill. She held it over Fred’s mouth and he turned his head away quickly.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I’m getting flashbacks to that girl who used to sell tabs of acid at parties. Make you stick out your tongue and put them right in your mouth for you. What was her name again? Oh yeah, Acid Queen Al-”

“It’s melatonin. Melatonin to help you sleep. Do not make me bring up stupid things you did when we were in high school. I promise I can match that story.”

He eyed the pill. His throat was dry from talking too much. “I really don’t think I should be taking anything right now.”

“It’s not a drug,” Hal said. “Your body already produces it.” He walked around to the other side of the bed and put the puke bucket on the floor.

Fred licked his lips. He had a feeling Alice wasn’t giving him the water until he took it. He hesitantly opened his mouth and let her place the pill on his tongue. Water was much easier to drink through a straw and Alice pulled the glass away before he drank too much.

“We’ll come back when they leave. Hopefully you’ll be asleep.” Alice stood up and pulled a blanket up to his neck. He was warm enough; he’d kick it off once she left.

“We’ll get you through this, Fred.” Hal tapped the bedside table. “I plugged in your cell. Call if you need us.”

The door closed. He was so certain there was no way he was falling asleep already. No way.

He wanted to kick the blankets off, but the heat was nice. We’re you supposed to sweat out a fever anyway? He’d make his own little sauna under this fleece blanket and flannel shirt.

His eyes closed but he knew he wouldn’t sleep yet. Not by a long shot. After all, melatonin wasn’t actual medicine. And he’d slept most of the day away and it couldn’t be past 6 pm yet.

Not by a long shot.

He drifted off, dreaming of someone coming into his room and tucking him back in.


	3. December 25th

“–going to have to be you! Pull your weight for once!”

“Jesus Christ, Alice. You’re going to wake him up.”

“Well, it’s time he woke up anyway. It’s been 12 hours.”

“12 hours? What the hell did you give him?”

A scoff. “One measly little Valium. It’s not my fault he’s such a light weight.”

“Valium? The man admits to you he had a problem and you give him a fucking sleeping pill?”

“Valium isn’t a pain killer at least! And you’d best watch your tone, FP. Not unless you want me to knock you one square in the jaw.”

“Oh please. You haven’t thrown a punch since you were seventeen. You probably forgot how.”

“You have a lot of nerve. I invite you to my home on a holiday, feed you, let your fool of a son – who I treat with the utmost respect, by the way – date my daughter, and this is still the way you act? One cheap shot after another?”

“You are the queen of cheap shots. And remember, I’m not the one waking you up at 6 am Christmas morning –”

“You were dropping Jughead off at the bus station!”

“– in a _panic_ –”

“I am _not_ in a panic.”

“– because you need a favor from me. So maybe if you ask me nicely, I will grant you this favor.”

Fred raised his head slowly, trying to make sense of what was going on. Were FP and Alice really fighting outside his bedroom door?

God, this _was_ high school all over again.

Alice’s voice was cold. “FP, I do not need anything from you. I can easily manage helping my neighbor with his withdrawal while simultaneously coaching my daughter through labor. You’re relieved of duty. Hal and I will just keep switching off holding our daughter’s hand and holding Fred’s. No sweat off my back. Good bye.”

“Allie, come on.”

“ _Don’t_. Don’t you Allie me. I don’t need anything from you. Fred does. Remember Fred?”

“Of course I –”

“Really? Because I thought the whole world turned their back on you, huh? Isn’t that what you said?” She sighed. “The man got _shot_ , FP. Shot. And you know who was at the hospital with him? Who stocked his refrigerator with casseroles and watched to make sure Archie was going to school every day? We did. And where were you? Huh? Prison, that’s where.”

“Alice…”

“No. I know you haven’t even seen Fred since you’ve been out. How’s that not the first thing you do? You let things fall apart with him so many times. And every time you’re literally handed a fresh start, a new opportunity, you waste it. Everything he’s done for you, for your son. The man owes you nothing, yet he’s given you so much, time and time again. You are selfish. You only think about yourself. And here I am, missing my own daughter give birth because of your selfishness. Because you can’t just do this one thing for the person you know will never ask you for help.”

Fred coughed lightly. He wanted to hack away the lump in this throat, but there wasn’t enough energy to do it. The morning sun was just peeking through the curtains and he squinted towards his bedroom door. It was opened just a crack. They couldn’t see him.

He winced as he pulled himself into a sitting position. It was odd, how only two days ago he’d been running down the stairs as fast as his son, hardly remembering he’d had a bullet in him two months ago. How a simple little pill had put him in a state of continued euphoria that he’d damn well been able to forget how bad it’d been. He slid his legs off the bed and let his feet hit the floor. The cane he had hardly used was in the corner near his closet, he could just see it now. It was a longer walk there than to the door.

He understood that Alice and FP were in his house, outside his bedroom door, arguing on Christmas morning. And he was sure they’d already said _why_ , but he was only making one connection right now.

_Polly was in labor_.

He wasn’t happy over the situation, per se. Polly was barely eighteen, boyfriend was dead, and she still had a year of high school to finish. It wasn’t exactly a celebratory situation, but he couldn’t help being a little excited. Make-the-best-of-a-bad-situation excited, at the very least. He hadn’t been around a baby since Jellybean was born.

He slowly pushed off the bed, letting his bare feet take his weight. He realized the socks he’d been wearing the past two days were no longer on. He always fell asleep with his socks on and woke up with them off nine mornings out of ten. It drove Mary crazy the way he’d kick them off in the middle of the night and she’d find them balled up amongst their sheets when she made the bed. At least she laughed at the way he always kept them on for sex.

Fred had never been a bare foot person, but he dealt with it and walked slowly to the bedroom door. He’d stopped listening to Alice and FP bicker – after all, did the two of them ever fight over a particular thing or where they just taking jabs at each other? – and focused on the task at hand.

_One foot in front of the other_. Funny how much of a labored task it became in a mere two days.

_Baby steps. Baby steps_.

He reached the door and pushed it open slowly. The voices in the hall didn’t stop.

“Just because you let your marriage fall apart does not mean –”

“I didn’t let my marriage fall apart! Jesus, you’d never say something like that to Fred.”

“Because you are _clearly_ not – Fred! What are you doing?”

At Alice’s gasp, FP turned and looked at him too. His two old friends stood several feet away from one another, FP doing that thing he always did to piss Alice off, mocking her stance. She stood at her full height plus three inch heels, her chin raised to the heavens. Her hands were on her hips, making her look like the epitome of a scolding mother.

FP looked down at Alice, back straight and hands also on hips. He looked like he was just asking for Alice to deck him.

The sight was almost enough to make Fred laugh. Despite their similar positions, Alice was already in another Christmas get up this early (green this time, and he was sure the rest of the Coopers were in the same color), whereas FP just looked like FP. Faded jeans, worn flannel with a plain grey t-shirt underneath. He may not have seen him in months, but jail hadn’t changed him in the least.

Fred could almost melt. Or faint. Standing made the pain worse.

“Fred?” Alice’s voice was filled with concern. “Fred, you shouldn’t be out of bed. How –”

“Grandma.” The word came out despite his dry mouth. He licked his lips and tried again. “You’re going to be a grandma, Alice.”

“Fred,” FP said softly. He turned to him and managed a smile. FP’s eyes were dark, sad. He raised both his eyebrows at Fred. After all these years, they didn’t need words anymore. Fred felt his heart speed up. Maybe he would melt, right here and now in the upstairs hall.

His hand let go of the doorframe. He took one feeble step towards FP and melted right into his arms.

Or maybe he fainted. It was hard to tell.

 

When Fred woke again, it was to a damp towel being placed on his neck. The cold felt amazing against his hot, sweaty skin. He nuzzled up against it like a kitten to their mother.

“You awake?” FP asked. Fred felt long fingers start combing the hair off his forehead. He opened his eyes, squinting against the sun filtering in. It must be nearly midday with all that light. “I’ve been worried.”

Fred opened his mouth, but no words came out. FP grabbed the glass of water and placed the straw in his mouth. He took a small sip, wincing at the coldness. He shuddered and tried again. His words came out slow.

“You been out for over two weeks and it took Alice yelling to get you over here?”

FP didn’t break his gaze. “You weren’t exactly at the gate to greet me. And to be fair, Alice has been on me this whole time to go see you. First words out of her mouth when I got released.”

Fred tried to pull himself into a sitting position, but FP gently placed his hand on his chest to get him back down. Fred noticed his shirt and pants had been removed. He was in nothing but a pair of boxers and thick winter socks.

Of course FP put his socks back on. He got a kick out of them too.

“Alice told you to come see me?”

“In so many words. You know her. Just cryptic enough to get you curious.”

“What’d she say?”

FP licked his lips, hint of a smile playing at the corners. The flutter came back to Fred’s stomach and he was thankful he was lying down.

“She asked if prison left me sexually frustrated.”

Fred couldn’t help but smile too. “Sexual frustration makes you think of me?”

FP’s hand was still on him. He lightly ran his nails a few inches down Fred’s torso.

“Always.”

Fred reached up and grabbed FP’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers and leaving them together on his chest.

“I’m sorry, FP. I should’ve gone to see you. Gone to that party at least.”

“That party was a disaster. You didn’t want to be there.”

“I wanted to see you though. Just couldn’t find the right time.”

FP squeezed his hand. He finally broke their gaze and started tracing his eyes down Fred’s body, only stopping when he reached the bullet wound.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Everything hurts right now.”

FP let his other hand hover unsurely over Fred’s face. Fred gave him a small nod and he placed it gently on his cheek.

“Part of it’s in your head, I think. You’re just so used to the relief, it feels ten times worse than it is when nothing’s numbing it.”

“Do me a favor?”

“Yeah?”

“Lay down with me.”

He stroked Fred’s cheek and let his hand rest on his chin. The gesture was so familiar, even after all this time. More of that high school déjà vu. Fred resisted opening his mouth so FP could put his thumb in.

“I’d love to, Freddy. But I need to feed you and give you a bath.”

He smiled. “You trying to tell me I smell?”

“Oh, you definitely smell.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I bet you’re not. But Alice said you probably didn’t eat anything yesterday either.”

_Alice, Polly_ …

“Polly went into labor?”

“Yeah. 5 am. Hal and Betty took her to the hospital while Alice blew up my phone. Told me she had an emergency and I needed to get over here. Thank God I’d just dropped off Jug. He would have asked too many questions. He was pretty worried about you. Wanted to come see you last night, but Alice insisted you had the flu and he should stay away.”

“He came by yesterday.” He let out a weak chuckle. “Asked me if you and Alice ever dated.”

FP laughed too. “Hell, that would have been a nightmare. Me and Alice?” His smile faded and he looked down Fred’s body again. “When he said you looked sick, I didn’t know what to think. Fred Andrews never gets sick. Then Alice muttering about the flu last night… I should have known. Should have figured it out before.”

“You haven’t seen me in months. How would you have known?”

“I knew you got hurt. They must have given you something for the pain. And hell Freddy, you never did have much in the way of impulse control, did you? I’m pretty sure every party with a keg ended with someone holding back your hair while you puked into the bushes.”

“I’m not a teenager anymore.”

“Some habits die hard. God. You’re so thin. I don’t think you were ever this thin, even when we were kids.”

“It’s not that bad. Just haven’t had much of an appetite.”

“I can count your ribs.” He unlaced their hands and placed his on Fred’s stomach. “Let me get you something to eat. Toast, soup, anything. Alice dropped off leftovers but they might be a little too much for you.”

“I don’t need –”

“I’ll be right back.” He stood up and pulled a blanket over Fred’s body, tucking it in right under his chin. He picked up the damp towel and laid it over his brow. “You want to call Archie? He and Mary called earlier. I told them you were still asleep.”

Shit. He didn’t even talk to his son first thing Christmas morning.

FP fiddled with the phone, placing it next to Fred’s ear. It rang once, twice, three times.

“Dad! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Arch. How’s Chicago?”

He let Archie ramble on for a few minutes. Christmas Eve downtown, the new phone Mary got him, the cookies they were baking. They were going ice skating tomorrow.

“There are beaches in the middle of the city, Dad. It’s wild.”

“Chicago is pretty wild. Let me talk to your mom, yeah?”

Archie paused for a moment. “Dad, you feeling okay?”

“It’s just a bit of flu. I’ll be over it before you’re home.”

“But –”

“Just feel lucky you didn’t catch anything before you left.”

Mary took the phone. “Merry Christmas, Freddy.”

“Merry Christmas, lady.”

“So FP’s there, huh?”

“So you’re talking to Alice, huh?”

“Touché. You going to give me an update or should I just call her back?”

“I’m fine, Mary. Fine.”

“Uh huh.” She sighed. “So… FP. There a story there you want to share, Freddy?”

“Jealous?”

“Of FP? A little bit, always.” She let out a little laugh. “Honestly, I’m just glad you’re in good hands.”

“You’re calling FP Jones a pair of good hands?”

“Well, those hands have taken care of you plenty of times before.” He could practically see the smirk on her face. “I’m sure you’ll be okay.”

“Mare!”

“Relax. Archie’s in the other room. You two… up to something? Archie seemed really surprised. He didn’t think you two had even seen each other since before he was arrested.”

“We hadn’t.” The thought of explaining this morning made his head spin. “He’s here now though. It’s just –”

“Complicated? I get you. Well, things always happen for a reason, right?”

FP walked back in, carrying food on a tray. The same one Fred used when Archie was sick, or when he’d surprise Mary with breakfast in bed.

“Right. Look, I have to get going. Just try and keep Archie distracted? It’s easier if I don’t have to worry about him”

“Yeah, Fred. Whatever you want. Just make sure I’m getting updates. Bye.”

“Bye, Mare.”

FP put the tray down on the bed and took the phone from his shoulder.

“Can you sit up on your own?”

Fred forced himself up and FP adjusted a pillow behind his back. He looked down at the food. Two pieces of dry white toast and a bowl of Alice’s chicken soup.

He took a whiff of the food and immediately covered his mouth quickly. FP scrambled and got the bucket under him. He retched a few times, but nothing came out. FP put the cup of water on the tray and adjusted the straw so he could take a sip. He sat down sideways on the bed and picked up a spoon.

“Give me a little credit. I can feed myself.”

“Like hell you can.” He held up a spoonful of soup to Fred’s mouth. Fred scowled but opened anyway. He let the broth sit in his mouth for a few seconds, savoring it until finally swallowed. He covered his mouth again as a fresh wave of nausea came over him, forcing it down with the soup. FP eyed him apprehensively. He gave him a curt nod and opened his mouth again. He waved FP down after half the bowl was gone and picked up a piece of the toast, taking a small bite.

“Finish it,” he muttered, a few crumbs tumbling out of his mouth. FP shook his head, reaching over and brushing the crumbs away. His hand lingered for a few seconds on Fred’s face.

“You think I want some reheated soup when I have real food down stairs? I actually might have put up with a lifetime of Alice’s craziness if I knew she was going to turn into that good of a cook. And you’re not getting off that easy. You have to finish this.”

“I can’t. No way.”

“Freddy, you’re killing me.”

“You’re supposed to coax me. Tell me three more bites and you’ll be happy. You never had to get Jughead and Jellybean to finish their dinner that way?”

“You ever see my kids eat? You normally have to take food _away_ from them. No Jones ever had to be talked into eating.”

FP always had been a human garbage disposal. Fred knew perfectly well he’d probably finish the soup anyway, regardless of the plate waiting for him downstairs.

He took three more spoonfuls and FP left him alone, cleaned out bucket sitting next to him on the bed. Fred pulled the blanket back to his chin and rested his hands on his now full stomach.

He still felt in a daze. Between the pain and FP of all people acting as his nurse, he didn’t know what to think. The pain killers always left him in such a complaisant state. All these problems going on around him – the Black Hood, the social stratification, his son becoming buddy-buddy with his old high school rival – seemed like small potatoes. As if everything that had happened these past few months had all been some big dream.

He gave his arm a pinch. It hurt.

“What was that for?”

FP stood in the doorway.

“Making sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

“Is me nursing you back to health something you dream about?”

“You shouldn’t flirt with me right now, FP. It’s a bit, well, sick.” Fred offered a weak grin. FP groaned.

“Once a cornball always a cornball.” FP sat down on the bed. “I’m not flirting, Freddy. Just want to make sure you’re okay. I owe you. I owe you everything.”

Fred took his hand again. “You know I’ve missed you.”

“Fred…”

“You haven’t missed me?”

FP swallowed. “You’re delirious. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Have you missed me, FP?”

 “Of course, Fred. Of course I missed you.” He squeezed his hand. “I left the water running. Let’s get you in the bath.”

He groaned. “I can take a shower, you know.”

“You passed out last time you walked a few feet. No way you could handle a shower unless I was holding you up the whole time.”

“Are you offering?”

FP’s voice was stern. “Fred, you’re getting in the bath and that’s that. Temperature and blood pressure first.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I promised Alice I’d keep checking your vitals. Just your temperature at least. I’ll lie about the blood pressure.”

Fred sighed and opened his mouth. When FP pulled the thermometer out, he clicked his teeth. “102. Not great.”

He pulled Fred to his feet, leaving him lightheaded as he fell into FP’s arms again. FP wrapped his arm around his waist and walked him down the hall to the bathroom.

“I, uhh, I can handle the rest myself.”

“I’ve seen you naked plenty, Fred.”

FP got down on the floor and let Fred balance against him as he pulled off each of his socks.

“Did you put socks back on me this morning?”

“I did. Alice said she took them off when she checked on you last night, but I know how you hate bare feet.”

Fred pulled down his boxers himself as FP respectfully looked away. FP held his arms as he lowered himself into the hot bath.

“You know what’d be nice? Some music.”

“Radio still in the garage?” Fred nodded. “I’ll go get it. Should probably walk Vegas anyway.” He tossed Fred a sponge and left.

He walked back through the door ten minutes later, ancient boom box in hand with the cord trailing behind him. FP plugged it into the wall and balanced it on the closed toilet lid.

“I didn’t grab any cassettes. I assumed you want Christmas music and there was none there.”

“Radio’s fine.”

He clicked it on, Don Henley’s voice reverberating against the tiled walls.

“ _Oh what a Christmas to have the blues,_  
My baby’s  gone, I have no friends,  
To wish me greetings once again.”

He changed the station. “That’s a little heavy handed.”

Fred sighed and sunk deeper into the water. “It’s fitting.”

“How?”

“We’re two addicts, both childless and wifeless on Christmas. Turn it back.”

FP clicked the clicked the radio again and sunk down on the floor. He leaned against the sink and sung along softly.

“ _But this is Christmas yes Christmas my dear  
The time of year to be with the ones you love_ ”


	4. December 26th

Fred couldn’t quite make out the time on the alarm clock when he woke up. It was still dark out.

He was covered in goosebumps and sweat and couldn’t tell if he was freezing or burning up. His fleece blanket was only over his legs and FP’s arm was around his waist. While the hand resting lightly on his stomach was a comfort, FP’s hot breath on his neck was annoying him in a way he couldn’t understand. He had to resist the urge to elbow him away.

It was confusing, because he always loved affection. Loved being held and holding someone. This position reminded him of those nights back in high school, nights in the back of the van. Sometimes with Hermione, maybe once or twice with Mary. But mostly with FP. Only the one window opened all the way (no wonder they’d gotten the piece-of-shit so cheap), so it was always sweltering. All those nights they’d opted to just sleep in there, sex leaving them too lazy and sated to drive home. Waking up covered in sweat and just doing it all over again.

God, how nice being seventeen had been. Why couldn’t forty-five feel that way?

He tried turning around, but FP’s arm was pinning him down. He squirmed a few inches away, but the heavy hand remained. Fred held in a scream.

Maybe agitation was just another stage.

He finally fell back asleep as the sun rose.

 

He woke up hungry for the first time in ages and FP made him hard boiled eggs and toast. It was the first thing Fred ate with any confidence. They were miles from the delicious deviled eggs Alice made for parties, but he gobbled them down regardless, hardly taking the time to chew.

They came back up almost as quickly as they’d gone down, half way through his first piece of toast.

He tried to hold back the tears after, but it was no use. They weren’t tears of pain; they were tears of defeat.

FP gave him some water to rinse his mouth out. Then he sat behind him on the bed and wrapped his arms around him. He placed his head on Fred’s shoulder and cooed into his ear that he’d be okay.

“You’re going to make it through this. _We’re_ going to make it through this.”

It was weird how easy things fell back into place. How even at his lowest, part of it still felt right. They hadn’t been this close in twenty, twenty-five years. Not physically at least. Not once he and Mary got married.

“Do you love me?”

The words came out of Fred’s teary mouth before he knew he was even thinking them.

Young FP would have laughed. Would have ran. Would have scoffed and punched his arm, only to pull him into the back of the van later that day and suck him off to apologize.

This FP softly tightened his grip around Fred. He planted a kiss on the back of his head.

“Of course I love you, Freddy.”

“Why didn’t it ever work?”

“Why didn’t what –”

“Us.”

FP rocked him back and forth. “This isn’t the time to talk about this. You’re not in the right state of mind.”

“Good. Then maybe for the first time in your life, you won’t have to be afraid of being honest with me.”

He felt FP gulp. “That’s exactly why. I was afraid.”

“After high school. Hermione ran off with Hiram. Mary went off to school in Chicago. And you joined the army. You left me.”

“Maybe I was sick of being your third choice.”

Fred shook it head. “You were never… You know you were always my first choice. You just kept pushing me away.”

“I was never good enough for you, Freddy. And it never could’ve worked. Small town, small people. They talked enough about us already. If word got back to my dad, to your parents. What the hell would we have done?”

“Ran. We just had to make it out of high school. We could have left too.”

“I told you, I was afraid. Still am.” He nuzzled against Fred’s neck. “I should have just admit that to you twenty-five years ago. Maybe save us both a lot of heartache.”

“It wasn’t all heartache.”

FP let out a soft laugh. “You’re getting divorced and Gladys walked out on me.”

“We got the kids though. Archie and Jughead. Jellybean. I wouldn’t trade them, even if it meant we got to be together all this time.”

“Me neither.” FP loosened this hold on Fred and turned him partially around. “Look, I –”

_BRIIIIIING_.

Fred’s phone went off from the bedside table.

“What the –”                    

“A text. Probably from Archie. I’m sorry. Grab my phone.”

FP grudgingly let go of him, reaching over to grab the phone. He pressed the button to light up the screen before handing it to Fred.

“Of course. Leave it to Alice to ruin a moment.”

“Alice?” Fred opened the message, his heart swelling. A fresh round of tears coming up.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Fred just shook his head, tilting the phone so FP could see too. Polly sat in a hospital gown, hair pushed back in a headband with a tiny baby wrapped up in either arm. The caption underneath simple said ‘Jay and Lizzy.’

“Well, look at that,” FP whispered. He stared at the screen for a few moments before looking back at Fred. “It’s a miracle that girl doesn’t hate me. She even hugged me on Christmas Eve. Thanked me for trying to help Jason. Thank God Alice didn’t hear that.”

Fred put his phone down and took FP’s hand. “What were we saying?”

FP’s mouth fell open. He stroked Fred’s faced with his free hand. “I don’t think I could ever be the man you want me to be, Fred. The one you deserve.”

“You could try.”

“I’ve never been much of a trier.” He looked down. “What would the boys say? What would the world say?”

“The boys won’t care. And the world? Since when did you ever care what other people thought about you?” Fred reached out and touched FP’s face, mirroring him. “You’re here with me now. How is that not being the person I need? The one I deserve?” FP looked back up. “Just stay this time, FP. Just say that you’ll stay.”

FP’s eyes were brimming with tears now too. “Of course, I’ll stay, Freddy. Of course.”

“Past me beating this. You’ll stay for good. Us together or not. I just don’t want to lose you again.”

FP pulled Fred back into his arms, planting another kiss onto his head. “Yes, Fred. Yes. I’m staying for good.”

The nausea still threatened to rise on him and his entire abdomen was still on fire.

But things had to get worse before they ever got better after all. Even if it took years.


End file.
